The Girlfriend (The Boss 2)

“Very nice.” Emir’s gaze dropped to my feet. “Take off your shoes.”

That was a change. Usually, Neil liked me to leave my shoes on. I looked to him for confirmation, and he nodded with an amused crook of his lips.

As I stepped down from one high-altitude heel, Emir caught my hand and gently steadied me. He held on until my soles touched the carpet then he dropped to one knee. His splayed palms bracketed my slender calf and slowly glided up, hesitating at the top of the lace band. “I like these. But I’d like to take them off of you. May I?”

I nodded, wetting my lips.

“Chloe, unhook your bra,” Neil ordered me, and I moved automatically to do as he bid.

“Oh, yes, definitely unhook your bra, Chloe,” Emir teased, his knuckles brushing between my thighs, tantalizingly too far from my clit.

“Should I take it off?” I asked, sliding a strap down my arm.

“Yes, please.” Emir leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my thigh through the stocking. Then he reached up and gripped my panties, pulling them roughly down. “Take these off, as well.”

He buried his nose against me through the lace, and I gasped, swaying on my weak knees. I peeled the panties off slowly, dragging them down the slope of his nose as he nuzzled against my sex.

Neil stepped up behind me and helped slide my bra the rest of the way off my arms, baring my tight, puckered nipples to the slight chill of the room. Or maybe the room was fine, it was just my body temperature that had gone through the roof. His big hands pushed my panties down my legs, and I stepped out of them as Emir dragged his tongue across the line where my thigh met my stocking.

“You can lean back on me,” Neil murmured against my ear. I reached up with one arm to hold on to his neck, enjoying the slide of his clothing against my bare skin. His palms skimmed beneath the curves of my breasts, cupping me.

Emir caught the lace top of my thigh-high between his teeth and slowly peeled it down, looking up at my shocked expression with amusement. I don’t think anybody had ever undressed me with their teeth before. When his mouth no longer sufficed, Emir carefully rolled the stocking down and whipped it from my foot with a flourish. The silk dangled from his fingers. “I very much enjoy a woman’s stockings. Do you want to know why?”

I caught my bottom lip in my teeth as I nodded. Neil’s hands moved down my sides, to grip my hips, his fingers digging into the firm flesh there. Emir’s hand skimmed up between my thighs, the stocking whispering over my skin.

“Take hold of it on your side,” Emir said to Neil, and they both held opposite ends, Neil the lace top and Emir the toe. With painstaking care, Emir slipped his fingers into my cleft and over my clitoris, tucking the silk around the rigid nub. He pulled up on his end of the stocking, eliciting a cry from me. Then, climbing to his feet, he took one step back, and then another. That was as far as he could go; silk doesn’t stretch much. But there was space between us, and he beckoned with a crooked finger. “Take a step toward me, Chloe.”

“Wait.” Neil let his end of the stocking drop, then knelt on the floor behind me. He rolled the other one down. Once it was free of my foot, he shook it out and wrapped it snug around my ankles.

“Good idea,” Emir said, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how they both knew exactly what was going on when I hadn’t the faintest clue.

Some of it probably had to do with the fact that all the blood had rushed away from my brain and into my aching cunt.

“But with silk?” Emir went on, watching as Neil worked.

“I have scissors nearby,” Neil told him. “In the drawer of the nightstand closest to the window, in case any issues arise.”

Normally, I might have been horrified to hear someone casually discuss cutting up an article of my clothing, but I was too far gone to care. Emir waited until Neil stood and took his end of the stocking between my legs, then repeated his earlier instruction. “Come toward me.”

The moment I moved, I knew exactly what they had done. The silk tucked between my folds slipped over and around my clit as I attempted a step. My bound ankles only prolonged the agony, because I couldn’t do more than shuffle forward with great effort. Balancing was a trick, and I threw my arms out to my sides. I was a tightrope walker of a different kind, it seemed.

I reached Emir with three teensy, tottering steps. He leaned down and brushed his lips over my cheek, my jaw, to my ear. “Maybe we should do this until you come,” he said, low enough that it was an intimate threat, loud enough that Neil would have certainly overheard. All three of us stood practically on top of each other.